The Exhibition of 1844 was about to open, so I asked and obtained leave to exhibit some specimens of my skill. The site granted me, opposite the door of honor, was undoubtedly one of the best in the hall, and I erected a circular stand, on which I placed a specimen of all the mechanical pieces I had as yet made. Among these my _Writer_ took the first place, which M. G---- had been kind enough to lend me for the occasion. I may say I enjoyed all the honor of the exhibition, for my productions were constantly surrounded by a crowd of spectators, who were all the more eager as the performance was gratis. Louis Philippe paid daily visits to the Palace of Industry, and as my automata had been pointed out as deserving his attention, he evinced a wish to see them, and gave me twenty hours’ notice of his visit. I thus had time enough to make all my arrangements. The king arrived, holding the Comte de Paris by the hand, and I stood on his left hand to explain my various articles. The Duchess of Orleans was by my side, and the other members of the royal family formed a circle around his majesty, while the crowd, kept back by the keepers of the palace and the police agents, left an open space round my exhibition. The king was in a charming humor, and seemed to take a pleasure in all I showed him. He frequently asked me questions, and missed no occasion to show his excellent judgment. At the end of the _séance_, the party stopped before my Writer. This automaton, it must be borne in mind, wrote or drew according to the question asked. The king made the following inquiry: “How many inhabitants does Paris contain?” The writer raised its left hand as if to indicate that it required a sheet of paper, on receiving which, it wrote very distinctly, “Paris contains 998,964 inhabitants.” The paper passed from the king’s hand into those of the royal family, and all admired the beauty of the writing; but I saw that Louis Philippe had a critique to offer, his smile proved that plainly enough. Hence I was not surprised when, pointing to the paper which had come back to him, he said: “Monsieur Robert-Houdin, you did not, perhaps, recollect that this number will not agree with the new census, which is almost completed?” Contrary to my expectations, I felt quite at ease with my illustrious visitors. “Sire!” I replied, with sufficient assurance for a man not much accustomed to the society of crowned heads, “I hope at that period my automaton will be intelligent enough to make any necessary corrections.” The king appeared satisfied with this reply, and I took advantage of his good humor to mention that my Writer was also a poet, and explained that, if he would deign to offer an unfinished quatrain, the automaton would fill up the rhyme in the fourth line. The king chose the following: Lorsque dans le malheur, accablé de souffrance, Abandonné de tous, l’homme va succomber, Quel est l’ange divin qui vient le consoler? C’est....